The Roswell Legacy by Frances Statham (parable of the sower read online .TXT) 📗

“I don’t know. She never talked much about it. But I noticed, when she was growing up, that she had a propensity for bringing home any injured bird or orphaned baby animal.”

Allison continued pouring, handing the cups to her two friends.

“Well, I know President Cleveland is beginning to get worried about what’s happening in Chicago,” Peggy confirmed. “The unemployed workers are getting out of hand. Tripp says if we have another war, it will be fought in the streets between law and order and those union people who’re threatening to stop the trains.”

“The workers have a just cause, Peggy,” Allison responded. “Morrow writes that it’s been such a dreadful winter. The children have no shoes to wear to school, and the families have no coal to burn to keep warm. There’s so much unemployment and distress. And if a man who does have a job complains about the scant pay, then a hired scab is sent in to break his arms.”

“Really, Allison,” Lila complained. “This is a terrible subject to talk about. Will you please pass me one of those marvelous petits fours?”

Peggy laughed. “You might pretend the problem isn’t there, Lila, but Allison’s right. And it won’t go away merely by looking the other way. Just recall the Haymarket Riot.”

“I think we’re spoiling Lila’s afternoon, Peggy. Perhaps we’d better find another subject to talk about.”

But true to Peggy’s prediction, the problem did not go away. For the rest of the congressional session, it occupied the thoughts of Cleveland and the lawmakers. And it hadn’t ended when the summer of 1894 arrived.

The previous July, Rad had made up his mind. He had decided that he would take Allison on a surprise trip, a tour through Italy and France. But today, as he rode his horse, Sumi, home from his office, he realized that his secret plans would now have to be postponed, even though arrangements had already been made.

Once again, Cleveland had called on him—this time, to go to Chicago to investigate the seriousness of the railroad strike that now threatened the operations of the U.S. mail. But he could take Allison with him. And they would go in comfort—in a private sleeping car. Allison was overdue for a visit with Morrow, anyway. She should like that, seeing her grandson David again and being with her daughter while he was busy consulting with Governor Altgeld, the mayor, and the railroad lawyers—and perhaps some of the unionists also, to hear their side of the story.

As Rad galloped down the avenue, the heat rising from the road was oppressive. But he kept going, and by the time he reached the entrance gates to his house, he and his horse were both winded. He slowed Sumi to a trot and followed the pathway to the stables, where he turned the animal over to the stablehand. Wiping the perspiration from his face, Rad hurried inside to the coolness of the garden room, where the overhead fan droned steadily, circulating the air.

“You’re home early,” Allison said, coming to greet him. “Would you like something cool to drink?”

“Yes. It’s hot as Hades out there,” he replied.

A few minutes later, they sat opposite each other in the white wicker chairs. As soon as Rad finished his iced lemonade, he set down the glass and stood. “I have to go to Chicago, Allison. And I want you to go with me. So pack your bags. I’ll wire Andrew tomorrow morning to meet us at the station on Thursday.”

“Isn’t this rather sudden? Why the rush?”

Rad stared at Allison. “Would you rather stay here alone in Washington?”

“Of course not, Rad. But you’ve taken me by surprise.”

“I only found out this morning. Cleveland wants me to go to assess the damage of the strikes for him.”

“I see.”

“And I thought you would want to visit Morrow at the same time since we never got there for the exposition. You don’t have anything else planned, do you?”

“Nothing that can’t be canceled. A benefit for the orphan asylum and the boat trip with Lila and Peggy down the Potomac.”

“Then let them know that your husband wants you with him. The other things can wait until we get back.”

Allison frowned as Rad disappeared from the room. She gathered the empty glasses to take back into the kitchen. It wasn’t like Rad to demand her presence. Usually, he was much more accommodating, consulting her before he made final plans. But this time he acted almost as if he were afraid to leave her. As if she would choose to remain in Washington rather than go with him.

She was sorry now that she had allowed Lila to hire Maggie, who was such a wonderful personal maid. Yet, at the time, Allison had felt that she could get along quite well with only Crete and Browne in the house. The main reason she’d kept Maggie so long was her concern that the girl might not be able to find another job. But if she were to get her clothes packed in time to leave, Allison would have to get busy immediately since she had only herself and Crete to rely on.

By the next afternoon, Allison had finished packing her trunk and was now waiting for Browne to bring the carriage around.

She was dressed in the same pale green silk dress with matching hat and umbrella that she had worn the previous season to call on Ginna’s mother. She had not worn it since. But it was just as fashionable as on the day the little Parisian seamstress had made it for her. And there was no real reason not to wear it again.

“I don’t think I told you, Allison. You’re going to be traveling in style. The president has put a private palace car at our disposal.”

“That was kind of him.”

That afternoon, as they left the white clapboard house with its comfortable Victorian porch and turret, it did not occur to either one of them what danger this decision would place them in.

The